


Mischief: DA Fluff and One-Shots

by narschlob



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon What Canon, Fluff, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonsense, noncanon, nonsequential
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:02:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6826552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narschlob/pseuds/narschlob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the nerd who started it all, may you burn in nug hell. </p><p>DA headcanons and ocs tearing up thedas<br/>Ellana Lavellan and Solvi Cadash belong to Chippita13</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mischief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chippita13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chippita13/gifts).



The springtime sun was just rising over the castle, a gentle breeze rustling the papers Varric kept scattered on his table by the fire. Na’ars reclined with her feet on the chair in front of her, the one hand she still had wrapped around a mug of ale. Her white boots were stained with mud, which she had tracked in from the stables after some not so secret necking with a certain ruffian. Ellana stood in the distance, waving her hands as she spoke with Josephine about something that was clearly upsetting her. Na’ars watched peacefully as the Inquisitor wrinkled up her nose at the Antivan, ear tips blotching red. It wasn’t until she comically stomped her foot and threw her hands in the air that Josephine bowed and scurried back to the door leading to her office. Na’ars chuckled lightly, enjoying the show until Ellana spun on her heel and trudged toward her.   
The qunari tipped her head back, white smile prominent against her dark features. Ellana propped her hands on her hips, gloves straining over her knuckles. Her dark hair fell over her ears as she, for once, narrowed her eyes down at Na’ars. 

“Can I help you, your Inquisitorial-ness?” Na’ars said more into her mug than to Ellana.

“You can take your ass to Halamshiral and pick up a couple of good for nothing--” She took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Samahl and Solvi have been arrested.”

Na’ars choked down the last of her drink before bursting into laughter. The chains that hung from her horns chimed as they shook. “It’s about time someone caught them.” She managed to get out before Ellana’s glare shut her up. 

“We have real problems, Na’ars. I don’t have time to go busting them out of every cell in Thedas!” 

The ride to Val Royeaux was five and a half days, through a bit of mountain, and generally a pain. If the weather kept and, Andraste help them, they didn’t run into any lingering Venatori five days was generous. While Ellana was set to let the troublemakers sleep in the bed they made, Na’ars was already getting to her feet. 

“Just us then, or do you want to ask Captain Curly to join us? I’m sure he would just revel in the opportunity to gloat over Solvi.” 

“Cullen never finds out.” Ellana said, pushing her finger into Na’ars’ leather clad chest. “Never.”

“Losing a bet, aren’t you?”

“You would know.” Ellana hissed, still feeling the sting of their last game of Wicked Grace when Na’ars took home everyone’s pants on a bet from Sera. She had to sneak back to Cullens quarters in naught but her chainmail and he wasn’t letting her live it down. She had made another bet with him before then, that Sam and Solvi, awful as they could be, were not dumb enough to get caught. Again. Because it had already happened three times, Cullen kept a tally in the bar. 

“I’ll get the mounts ready.” Na’ars practically purred. 

“Mount something, you will..” Ellana muttered at the qunari’s back. Na’ars laugh echoed through the hall as she exited. The elf went back to her personal quarters to change into her traveling gear and curse the day she was ever charged with keeping her misfit cousin. Gods, don’t let Dorian catch wind of this, she thought, because that man is not one for secrets. 

Ellana met Na’ars at the gates, the larger woman holding the bridles of a drakolisk and a hart with her single hand. It had been months since she cut her own arm off to get rid of the mark that lingered. Not once had she acted like it affected her, and although Ellana had only ever seen her fight when both hands held a weapon, she had no doubts the axe the qunari now carried was any less proficient. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you.” The elf chided, swinging effortlessly up into the saddle and securing her staff in its holster on her back. Her armor glinted in the sunlight, robes draping around her form delicately. 

“I had to acquire some assistance. I only have one hand after all.” Na’ars said fillipantly as she mounted the dragonoid with ease. 

Ellana rolled her eyes and urged her hart forward. After studying the map closely, she found a cart trail that was supposed to cut the trip in half. If the two warriors rode through the night, given their mounts weren’t too exhausted, they could make it in two days. One through the mountain pass and one along the trade routes. She shared this with Na’ars as they rode, going over her plans for their arrival. 

“So, did Josephine tell you what they did?” Na’ars asked, as they stopped to eat midday. She skewered a piece of steak and popped it into her mouth with a dagger she pulled from her thigh. At some point she had swapped the white boots for her rugged fur boots, that wrapped up past her knees and blended into the bear furs she had wound around her hips and down her legs. It was a style she had picked up from the avvar they had met recently. Her tight leather vest revealed the scars along her shoulders and arms, the long gash on her collar she boasted getting during a wrestling match with a dragon. The qunari took up space and definitely dressed to intimidate, though as Ellana well knew, she was nothing but a softie inside. 

“Leliana’s messenger was not specific, although I’m pretty sure drunk and disorderly covers it.” Ellana tipped back a bottle of ale. “As ususal.”

The Inquisitor sounded exasperated, but truth be told she lived for an excuse to get out of the castle and away from all the responsibilities. Her fine features relaxed into a smile as she relaxed into the conversation, reaching up to loosen her scarf. The scar that ran from her right brow down her cheek wrinkled into her grin. She joked once that, the only visible scar she had, she obtained it from running face first into a halla. With no one to confirm or deny her story, most of the crew had decided to take it as truth. She was surely capable of the same kind of senseless accidents, constantly vaulting off of stairs and running fists first into battles. Cullen had many a heart palpitation watching his lover return bleeding to camp, a smile from ear to pointy ear. 

With such a small company and beasts much more capable of handling the endurance, the two rode through the night, making it to the open road and out of the mountains by sunrise. The grasses glowed with dew from morning mists, clouds rolling gently overhead. Ellana opened her mouth to comment on how pleasantly the trip was going when she was interrupted by a burst of magic. Bolts of lightening flung her from her seat before she could grab her staff. 

“What the f--” Na’ars was cut short by her own blast of magic. She recovered as Ellana threw up a barrier around them. 

“Did you see where that came from?”

“Ell, you're probably like, the closest thing I have to a friend that doesn't want me dead so I'm gonna break this to you as easy as possible.” 

Ellana turned to glare at her, staff glowing as bright as her eyes. “What.” She hissed.

“I was asleep.” Na’ars shrugged, slipping the axe from its place on her hip. Ellana’s sigh echoed around them as another blast bounced off her shield. To the side of them, the bushes rustled and three men in Orlesian masks slunk out, dragging a young boy by the collar.

“Hand over your weapons and whatever money you have or the brat gets it.” said the larger of the men as he grabbed the kid up by the collar and held a knife to his throat. Ellana rolled her eyes and dropped the barrier, stepping over to Na’ars’ weak side. 

“Kids not ours. Don't care.” Na’ars said, slipping her axe back and putting her fist on her hip. The way she inclined her head to show her horns was threatening enough. 

Ellana shook her head, leaning casually on her gilded staff, hair blowing in the wind. “For all we know he’s with you.” 

The large man shook his head. “I mean it!” 

“Cool beans.” The elf said, looking them over. “By the way, I'm guessing you're the one that shot me?” She questioned of the smaller body on the right, his fist clenched around a withering staff. 

“Good to know.” Na’ars chuckled. “Cause I'm gonna eat him first.” 

And with that, Ellana surged forward, tossing a fireball at the mage who melted into ash. Na'ars pulled the dagger from her thigh and tossed it cleanly into the large man's throat, who promptly gurgled and bled out. The middle man in the mask and the boy stood trembling between the corpses. 

“How about you run along now,” Ellana said contrite. “And don't you dare try to rob another sole with that shtick or I'll come back and find you.”

Na'ars laughed, dusting herself off and leaning over to pull her dagger from the dead man. Ellana had her arms crossed and was pouting again. 

“This is what I get. I almost said it, I almost said we were doing good.” She ran her hand up and down her Hart's nose, calming it before she mounted up. 

The rest of the day's ride passed without incident and when the pair entered the gates of Val Royeaux the moon was rising over the water. Ellana quickly checked them into a room at the inn as Na'ars boarded the animals. The two took the stairs together and when Ellana pushed open the door to their room she gasped. 

“How am I supposed to sleep in that!” She threw her hands out at the four poster bed that had large naked figures carved out of the headboard. 

“Like a baby.” The qunari chuckled, tossing herself into the mass of pillows. “Cmon boss, get some sleep before we bust out Dee and Dumb.”

“It could be worse, right?” Ellana sighed.

“Wait til you see Par Vollen.” 

++

“I'm quite alright, actually.” She said, unlatching her bracers and settling down on the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was asleep, snoring lightly. Na’ars leaned a cushion up against the obnoxious headboard and settled back, kicking off her boots. 

It felt as if Ellana had barely closed her eyes when Na’ars was calling her to wake. The rogue was hooking her weapon on her belt, a loaf of bread hanging from her mouth. The sleepy elf stretched her limbs, groaning. Their room had not come with a window, probably something to do with the theme running with the bed, so there was no sunlight to show time of day. Ellana was about to complain, but as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes she noticed the bedside table had a bowl of fresh fruits and breads. The inn’s servant had woken the qunari with his entrance at the wee hours of the morning. She had been ready to slit his throat before the smell of food drifted over to her. Apologizing to the boy, she rose to eat an entire platter before bothering to wake the Inquisitor and sending him to bring more. 

Ellana slid from the comfort of the bed, palming a fruit she didn't recognize. “Please tell me it's past noon.” 

“Sure. It’s past noon.” Na'ars said sarcastically, eliciting another groan from Ellana. 

After eating her fill, Ellana made use of the basin across the room to wash her face and comb through what hair she hadn't shaved away. Once ready to face the day, the pair made their way down the stairs and across the market, stopping to verify themselves with the guard before entering the jail. Na’ars, audibly uncomfortable, growled at the captain that stopped them once inside. 

“Excuse me, but only designated officials are allowed past this point.” He stated.

“Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure Inquisition is as official as it gets, bud.” Ellana narrowed her eyes at him, folding her arms. 

It had been some time since their last visit, unpleasant for all of them, getting a friend out of a prison he put himself in. A friend that Na'ars happened to like kissing. Ellana still wasn't ready to talk about that ordeal without alcohol. While the removal of immediate danger of the veil had made everyone go back to bickering amongst themselves, the Inquisition was still the power holder across most of Orlais and Fereldan. There was absolutely no reason for them to be curbed at the door like this. 

“As far as I'm concerned,” the Captain bristled, “I'm looking at an overdressed servant and a broken invader.” 

Na'ars discomfort was replaced by pure rage. Her red eyes glared daggers at the small man, her fist tightening over her axe. When he punctuated his remark by spitting at their feet, she looked to Ellana for confirmation. 

“Oh buddy, oh buddy I am not even sorry for this.” The elf said, lighting the Captain's pants on fire. 

“When your employer asks,” Na'ars said, grabbing the man by his masked helmet. “Tell him the Inquisitor sends her regards.” And she tossed him into the open cell to the right. Ellana waved her hand, closing the cell gate and cementing it together. Being a mage had its perks.

“I hear fighting! Hello! Mom!” Solvi’s chipper voice carried down the hall. Ellana put her face in her hand at the nickname, tempted to turn and walk right back home. 

“Hey, look.” Sam's disinterest sounded as the two rounded the corner. “Its the one hand wonder.” 

Solvi and Sam were in different cells, but side by side still. Whoever had that genius idea clearly regretted it. Sam's blue tunic hung open, showing the vallaslin that marked his chest. He lazed on the cot at the back of the cell, a little fire lit on the floor. Shadows danced over his face, highlighting the scar that pulled his mouth into a permanent grin. Beside him, Solvi had her round face pressed against the gate, fists balled around the bars. Her cheeks were flushed the same red as her hair. The dwarf was not to be overlooked, making up for what she lacked in height with the abrasive attitude. She wore her coat tied around her waist, undershirt dirty with whoever's blood the two had scuffed with to get themselves arrested. 

“So then,” Solvi said cheerfully. “Boom this gate away and we can be right off.” 

“If that were possible, don't you think I would have done it ages ago?” Sam grumbled. 

“You're not going anywhere,” Ellana said, hands on her hips. “Until you tell me why the heck you got thrown in here in the first place.” 

“Solvi got in a bar fight!” Sam rushed out, coming to stand at the gate. 

“Oh hell no!” Solvi changed tactics, trying to assult Sam through the bars between cells. “Samahl froze the barkeep!” 

“Of course you did.” Na'ars said, addressing them both. She knelt in front of Solvi’s gate to pick the lock, which to everyone's surprise, she did effortlessly with one arm. 

“For someone who hates magic, I swear to gods you use it.” Ellana said, eyebrows raised. Na'ars chuckle echoed through the hall as Solvi shuffled out of the cell. 

“Sweet, sweet freedom, I could kiss you!” She reached out to the qunari who put a large hand on her head to hold her back.

“Please don't.” 

“One of these days,” Solvi growled, “I'm gonna cut off your other hand and both your legs if you keep doing that!” Ellana stepped in, leading Solvi to the other end of the hall for a lecture on proper manners amongst friends. 

Na'ars released Sam, who coolly brushed past her and to the others. “Thanks.” 

The four made their way past the knocked out guard, who pants were still on fire before Sam casually froze them. Solvi’s laughter carried through the dungeon and out the doors as Ellana opened them. Na'ars, who went back to sordid silence, watched as Ellana chided the others, thinking more about the losing bet than their actual morality. 

“Clearly you handle racist remarks the same as I do,” Sam said to the other Lavellan. “Except ice didn't generally do physical harm. Not instantly.” 

“You hush, do as I say not as I do.” Ellana commanded. 

“You're not my Keeper.” Sam folded his arms, making his defiance clear. 

“Yes, yes. We all know you're your own person. Congrats.” 

Solvi poked her head in between them, small feet working double time to keep up with the angry elves. “Listen kids, all's well that ends well. Let go get drinks!” 

“No!” Echoed the others, Na'ars included. 

“No drinking until we are safely behind castle walls.” Ellana affirmed.

“You mean no drinking with anyone but Cabot, who wont stand for the nonsense.” Na'ars said, heading towards the stables. She met the others the the city gates, two harts, a drakolisk, and Solvi's giant war nug in tow. 

“I still don't understand why you chose that thing,” Sam chuckled at Solvi, who made a scene climbing up the beast. 

“His name is Cuddles and he is a majestic steed.” 

Ellana shook her head all the way back to Skyhold, their trip taking much longer as there was no rush this time. She put up with three days of bickering and grumbles in a shared tent. When they finally reached the crest of the mountain inview of the castle, the Inquisitor was ready to stab each of them, twelve times. Just as she was sighing with relief that they made it home, she noticed a figure at the gate. The closer they rode the more fluffy and gruff the figure became.

Cullen was waiting for their return, arms folded across his chest, fur shoulders blowing in the spring air. Gods, he was gorgeous, Ellana thought before quickly rembering that she had something to hide. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” 

“Looks like we have a welcoming party,” Na'ars said.

“Where's my bumblebee!” Solvi shouted, spurring her war nug into a run. 

“I'm pretty sure party means fun needs to be involved.” Sam mumbled. Na'ars reached over to punch him in the shoulder.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

Cullen ran his hand down the harts nose as Ellana stopped in front of him, his mouth curled into a small smile. His blonde hair blew around him, out of his carefully brushed part. Ellana watched him carefully as she slid from her mount and closed the distance between them. He wrapped her into a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“This is,” she leaned back to look him in the eyes. “A surprise.” It was rare that the Commander was comfortable with public displays of affection. 

“What can I say,” Cullen's voice was low, just for her. “I'm glad you're home.” 

Ellana's smile was half hearted, she couldn't help but feel like something was going on under her nose. Her pointed ears twitched as snickers sounded behind her. Na'ars and Sam were leading their rides through the gate, Solvi long gone. Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist and led her in, handing her hart off to one of the agents standing nearby. 

Later that day, as the sun was setting, members of the inquisition gathered in the hall for dinner. Sera was sprawled across Solvi’s lap at the end of the table, fingers intangled and hands full of beer mugs. Na'ars sat beside them, her amputated arm resting over Blackwall’s shoulder and he laughed heartily at something Sera said. Varric sat across from them, his face lit up by candlelight, probably documenting everything. Cassandra was by him, her arms crossed but smiling, loosened up by the company. The Iron Bull sat next to Blackwall, leaning back from the table, a leg of something charred half in his mouth and half in his fist. Josephine and Leliana whispered to each other across from him, both looking more relaxed than they had in days. Next to them Dorian sat with Sam, the Tiventer grinning at something his smug partner mumbled, holding his hand under the table. At the head of the table Ellana sat with Cullen, a smirk still played across his face. She has downed two mugs already, still feeling uneasy about the way her commander was acting. 

“I think it's time for a toast,” Cullen announced, getting the attention of the table. 

Ellana's eyes widened, not prepared for whatever he was going to say. Bull raised his leg of meat as Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Solvi and Sera were not to be bothered, still curled up in each other's arms. 

“To Samahl and Solvi,” Cullen began. “For busting out of yet another prison.” 

Na'ars laugh echoed off the arched ceiling. Ellana groaned, sinking into her chair. There it was. The thing that had been giving her butterfiles all day. He knew. 

“Here, here!” Varric said, raising his mug. Leliana shook her head. 

“And,” Cullen continued. “To our Inquisitor, who lost the bet!” 

The table cheered, even Sam cracked a smile. Ellana felt like she could sink right through the floor, face turning red. When Na'ars laughed again, she shot up, pointing a finger at the qunari. 

“You ratted me out, didn't you!” Ellana shouted. 

“Not a peep from me.” Na'ars said, “Ask Solvi, or” she smiled, taking in the dwarfs complete lack of attention to the conversation, “ask Sam.”

Ellana’s small fists came down on the table. “What did you do!” 

“Come now,” Dorian began, holding his hands up “at least let me clear the line of fire first.” 

“I didn't do shit.” Sam hissed. “Solvi, however, sent word to Cullen long before she asked you.” 

Ellana turned on the commander. “You knew?!” 

Josephine’s laughter chimed around them. “Cullen sent me to you, actually.” She shook her head, tendrils of dark hair breaking loose. “I barely kept a straight face.” 

“Curse you all,” Ellana grumbled, “turning on me like savages.” Cullen’s chuckle in her ear softened her defeat. At least he was smiling finally. 

“Never again.” The Inquisitor commanded. But not a soul at the table was listening.


	2. AdaarWall Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what canon? Some time post Trespasser, in headcanon land where the Inquisition isn't disbanded and romanced BW doesn't die as a Warden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a wank angst for my kid oc and her stupid teddy bear, i'm sorry.

Na’ars sat on the bed, fumbling again to tie the cinches on her boots. It had been nearly a year since the incident but she still struggled. The ghost pains were the worst. Some days she could still feel the burning in her hand, some days she thought she could feel the fade. Worse was the itching of her broken horn. Josephine had put a great deal of care into buying the perfect golden cap, it both balanced the weight of her horns and was made look as if nothing was missing. She had gone the extra step to inlay it with chains that dangled from the curve and tucked itself behind her pointed ear. There was a notch missing from the same wound that took her right horn. She pushed down the rage that bubbled up with the memory before she broke something again. It wasn’t time for self pity, she was supposed to be making judgements today, she needed a clear head.

The guard knocked on the door, his voice carrying up the stairs. “Are you ready, Lady Inquisitor?” 

Na’ars chose not to answer, vaulting over the bannister and landing in front of the door. When she pushed it open the guard nodded to her, accompanying her down the halls to the throne. 

“Word of warning, ma'am?” He offered before opening the last door. She paused, letting him continue. “There are Grey Wardens in attendance today.”

Na’ars nodded, straightening. It was impossible to hide shiver that ran down her spine at the title. Fire ran up the ghost limb, reminding her what it cost to save a nation. A world. Gracefully, she made herself comfortable in her throne. Crossing one knee over the other and propping her chin on her arm. The fabric was rolled to her bicep on the left, exposing the remaining nub to the cool mountain air. Much to her delight, the first man drawn before the counsel was an orlesian bard. She doled out mild punishments for petty crimes, at least, things she considered petty. Even as one of the most powerful leaders in Thedas she still had no interest in the Game or its players. The morning drew to afternoon, and the counsel broke for lunch, a tradition introduced by Sera and regarded still as one of her best ideas yet. There were only three more people to be heard today, all requests, no further criminals, thankfully. Spies and murderers bore her, and she still did not consider herself a proper enough judge of character to put anyone to death. 

Once filled with enough wine to deal with the coming nobles, she found her seat again on the throne. The first man wanted troops for his personal protection during his travels. Na’ars relented a party of Chargers to aid him, his gold going directly into their pockets. The second came to offer the inquisition his quarry, in return he wished only to use the military roads for his trade. Instead of granting full access, she agreed to use inquisition resources to move his product, if she could buy from him at a discount. Both men and their parties left better off and Na’ars kept the upper hand by making it seem like it was her idea. She was feeling rather pleased with herself until Josephine paused in her announcement of the final guest. 

“On behalf of the Grey Wardens, Warden Rainier requests an audience with the Inquisitor.”

The name was enough to make her stomach queasy. She had freed him, but abandoned him all the same when she ended whatever was going on between the two of them. Breaking him out of prison had been reflex, but when it came time for him to answer to her, she couldn’t bare to look at him. It had been years since she saw him, but those eye were not easy to forget. All the pain of the realm reflected in those eyes, his eyes, that she didn’t dare meet, inquisition be damned. Not a muscle twitched across her body, not even a raised brow, not even a breath, only the incessant itching of a hand that was no longer there. She didn’t look at him when she spoke, instead focusing on the doorway just over his head in the distance. The counsel had not forgotten what this man was any more than she had, but they were all damned if she let them know it. 

“What can the inquisition do for you?” 

He replied, carefully looking away from her missing pieces. "Warden Stoudenmire requests inquisition assistance in Fereldan, dispatching forces to the regions closest to the mountain cave in site. Villagers in the surrounding area have been reporting dead attacking them in the fields. We simply do not have th-"

Na’ars cut him short with a wave of her hand. "Granted." She looked to Josephine, "Ask Cullen to arrange a group to sweep the area, they can report in to Stoudenmire for further instruction." 

"Immediately, inquisitor."

"Anything further?" Adaar asked of the warden. 

"That is all, m'lady." 

Her heart clenched at the words. Unable to bear another moment with all eyes on her, with his eyes on her, Na’ars rose from the throne. 

"Anything further can be addressed next counsel, thank you." Turning sharp on her heel, Adaar flung open the door to the war room. 

Taking the exit to her left, she snuck through the kitchen and out into the stables. Pain struck her chest like an anvil. She should have went the other way. It was instinct almost, the sight of him corralling her back to the place they were last together. Her breathing grew heavy, panic setting in. It had been a while since she had an attack like this, no one could see her. Snaking her way up the steps across the yard, she managed to to make it to the roof over the garden. She jumped in a rush, landing neatly across from the door to Andraste's shrine. Although she was not religious (if meeting actual gods couldn't do it, nothing would), this place had become her safe haven. She bolted the door and sunk to her knees in front of the Maker's bride. 

"What else?" Adaar whispered to the statue. "What else do you torture me with, you demon?" 

"The pain doesn't leave, will never leave, even if it was never there to begin with." 

Cole materialized beside the idol. He had been absent lately, so much so that Adaar assumed he found someone else who needed him and moved on. While he spooked her, appearing in his way, she felt more relieved than anything to see his bright face. 

"What do you suggest then? I'd just as soon cut out my heart but it went so well with the hand I just-" she sighed, not enough energy to finish her quip. The spirit knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her knee. 

"Pain kept is a burden, pain shared between two is the heart's desire." He stood, starting to dematerialize. "He chose to relay the message, to see the pieces left." 

And he was gone, not even a shadow in the candlelight. Adaar sat, tears welling in her eyes for the second time that day, only now she was free to let them spill over. Locked in her shrine with the Bride, she clumsily shook off the official regalia, unlacing the sash wrapped around her waist and pulling the tie from her hair. She should have shaved both damn sides, but pride and Vivienne convinced her otherwise. Red waves fell over her shoulder, reaching near her collar. Agitated, she pulled the golden cap from her right horn and fussed over the sore nub. Staring at the ornament in her lap only made her cry more. She had given her arm, her horns, her freedom, her love; all to save a world that still spoke of her in disdainful whispers. Sitting in front of Andraste, wiping tears from her eyes, none of it felt worth it. To give up all chances of happiness to satisfy the world was hero's work. Let the templars or the chantry or anyone but her worry about it for now. Today she needed to lick old wounds and forget herself in something strong and red. 

It was nightfall when she finally crept out of the shrine. The moon hung over the castle walls, bright and threatening. She made her way up the winding staircases back to her quarters, passing few guards on her way. Not a one commented on the missing horn cap or her uniform in shambles, out of fear or respect she didn't care to guess. Once in her room, Adaar fell listlessly on her bed, kicked off her boots, and tried desperately to sleep. The imported pillows and bearskin blankets were too much to deal with tonight. She tossed and turned before giving up entirely. Dropping into the chair at her desk she decided to find something to keep her busy mind off the Warden.

Request for the stables to be extended.   
Inquiry about the treaty with the Grey Wardens.   
Update on darkspwan activity in the marshes. 

The stack of paperwork seemed to scream his name, while not mentioning it at all. She threw the quill across the room in frustration. Would this day ever end? She paced, kicking things and cursing and trying to wear herself out. Just as she was considering throwing herself off the balcony she noticed a note placed neatly under a glass of wine beside her couch. The envelope was closed with a wax seal, that of the Grey Wardens. She turned it over and over again, holding up to the candlelight to see through the parchment. After a moment's hesitation she tore it open with her teeth, desire to know what it said burning her up inside. 

“Lady Inquisitor,” it read. “I would like to formally apologize for any discomfort my presence has brought you. I will not be staying in Skyhold out of respect for you, my Lady. Regardless, it would be a lie not to say what relief I felt seeing your face again, but it will be only this once. I do not wish to intrude further. Thom”

Na’ars stood and immediately threw the letter into the fire. 

“Arsebiscuit!” This time she did flip a table, if only the bedside one. “Who does he think he is, leaving notes by my bed like some, like some soldier home from war.” She grabbed a candle dripping hot wax, burning herself in her rage. “Bloody arsehead!” 

She stomped her way to the balcony once more and threw the candle in the direction of the stables, shaking her hand in pain. Though it fizzled out before landing, she still heard the pleasant thunk of matter hitting wood. This was not good enough. 

She paused to pull on her hunting boots, the delay giving her long enough to realize his smell still hung in the air. Heartache and rage tangled on her tongue and she jumped the bannister again, bypassing the stairs out of her quarters. Though Josephine would have offered him a guest room as she would any visitor, Adaar knew she wouldn't find him relaxing in any orlesian bed tonight. She took the door to the war room once more, making a left and cutting through the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and drawing it to her lips as she passed. She jumped from the stairs of the kitchen and landed silently outside the stables, not even the mounts noticed her moving. Her approach went almost entirely unnoticed until a shiver ran up her ghost arm. A curse slipped from her lips when he stepped into view. 

Rainier was pacing around the fire. He knew he should not have come, but there was not a chance in the realm he could have given up the opportunity to see her again. It had been years, so much had changed. He was a warden now, a real one, and making real change. Adaar had saved him from himself and countless others, but she did not save herself. Rumors of her wavering power circulated the far corners of Thedas. It still plagued him each time someone spoke ill her name. She was a sight to behold though, on her iron throne, dressed in gold and red. He was nearly so enraptured by her features, the glowing red eyes that looked everywhere but at him, that he didn't notice the arm she lost hanging limp at her side. Another burden he should be baring, he told himself. Though she rebuked him, he should have stayed. Should have demanded to be by her side when she needed him most, should have disobeyed. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe they would be worse. Thom was deep in thought about this when he heard a voice behind him. It was too faint to make out, so he turned, searching the darkness for a source. By instinct his hand went to his sword, but he had taken it from his belt when he came to the stable. He didn't need it though, because before he made his next move Adaar stepped into the light of the fire. 

“My Lady,” he said, bowing to hide his surprise. When he rose she was standing in front of him, fire in her eyes. 

The slap burned in her palm, tingling up her arm. “Coward!”

Na’ars pushed him back, causing him to stumble into the table behind him. He didn't speak or meet her eyes as she unleashed on him. 

“How dare you show your face,” she pounded on his chest, “after all this time to just walk in, to be here.” 

Her energy was wearing thin, the phantom pain started up again. It was too hard to look into his eyes and not see the man she loved. Sinking to her knees in front of him, she let the anger fizzle out.

“And only a letter, am I not worth more than that?” she leaned her head into his stomach, her horns pressing into him.

It was such a natural thing, it felt like home. His breathing moved her, making him real again. The fire cracked behind them, turning the shade around the barn red. Thom knelt down to her level, cupping her face in his calloused hands. The right words would not come, so he peppered her forehead with kisses. Trailing across the base of her horns, down her nose, until he paused, poised by her lips. Resting his forehead against hers, he sighed. 

“I…” he dropped back from his knees, leaning against the base of the table. “I didn't know what to say, but it felt wrong to say nothing at all.” He ran a hand down his beard, it had grown back since she saw him last, clean shaven. He looked more like the Blackwall she had known, not Thom Rainier. But when he spoke, it was unclear who he was. She had to remind herself they were on in the same now. 

“Everything has changed. Most of it my fault, some of it just the way of the realm. I'm so sorry that I was not here when you needed me my Lady.” He reached out to gently caress what was left of her arm. “Please, be angry with me. I deserve it. I've failed you yet again.” 

Na’ars settled into his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. She wrapped her good arm around herself, sighing in content. 

“I've been angry with you for far too long. I can't do it anymore. I don't hate you, I never have. You're a survivor, just like I am.” 

The two sat in silence by the fire for most of the night, absorbing the only time the had together. In the morning he would leave again and she would have to go back to her duty as leader of the inquisition. His fingers ran up and down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It was reminiscent of old times, just two wounded soldiers sitting by the fire. How many nights had she longed for this? Just to have her heart settled, to feel safe again. They drifted easily into sleep, nestled into their old ways. 

Her screams woke him, startling the horses. Thom nearly shed his skin in shock, first pulling her tightly to him the releasing when he found no threat. Adaar still slept, shaking from the nightmare. It was the same each night, most of the castle had been trained to ignore it. It was certainly not spoken of. The Herald had seen and done many things, demons had seen to her personally, it was not a surprise that some of them lingered in her dreams. For the first few months Cole sat by her bedside, removing what he could from his friend. When the trace of demons were gone, all that was left was heartbreak. This the spirit could not repair. Now, in Thom's arms, she fought again. 

In her nightmare she executed him personally, but as his head rolled away it morphed into a demon, into a god, into the sword that swiped at her, lobbing off pieces as it went. Her hand set to green fire, rushing through her body and tearing out her heart. She saw her inquisition crumble at her hand, haven on fire, Skyhold swallowed up by a rift she opened, a rift that seated itself in her chest. She clawed at it, trying uselessly to stop the damage she started but it would not stop. Not until fear crept out of the hollow of her heart, wearing the shaven face of Thom Rainier, laughing at her as he tore her in two. 

“Wake up, Na’ars, wake up!” It shouted at her today. Groggily, she roused herself from the dream. When she was able to focused her eyes, she met his. Scared, she pushed herself out of his arms. Yielding, he let her go. His eyes were wide with worry, his lips gently repeating the same words. 

“I'm here, you’re safe.” 

Last night danced across her memory, reminding her he was real, not some monster wearing his face. Timidly she reached out to wipe away the blood running down his cheek. 

“Are you alright my Lady?” he winced when her thumb crossed the gash on his face. His shoulderpad was ripped open as well, blood dripping into the fabric. Adaar bowed her head in shame. 

“Just a nightmare. Please, let me bandage this.” She moved slowly, lethargically to the workbench, pulling out a roll of cotton that had been there since before he left. He pulled his tunic off wordlessly, watching her with sad eyes. 

“Hazards of bedding a qunari, right?” He repeated her own words back to her. The words she said so long ago. 

“I had to tell Josephine to stop buying the expensive pillows. They never last til morning.” She smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. 

Tenderly, he reached up to touch the broken nub of horn. “Is it painful?”

“Not physically,” she replied, finishing up his bandage. 

The sun was rising behind them, tinting the sky red. It reflected in her eyes, making him linger. He mindlessly traced the scar on her bottom lip with his thumb. 

“I love you, still.” He murmured. “I have not for one second stopped.” 

She leaned her chin into his palm, red eyes finally meeting his. She ran her hand through his greying hair, smiling as tears welled in her eyes. 

“I will love you until the day I die, Thom Rainier.”


End file.
